A Few Days 1
by sarapals with past50
Summary: The first time Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle meet, what happens over a few days to establish a friendship, a little romance, a trust.First of a series!
1. Chapter 1

A Few Days Chapter 1

**A Few Days Chapter 1**

Gil Grissom could not remember a time when he had laughed as he had last night. Two women, two young women, had started this—making his head hurt from listening to their constant back and forth conversation, playing off each other, and giggling, dragging him along streets and into restaurants and bars.

He was waiting for them to arrive, watching the doors below open and close as the morning sun reflected on the marble floor.

The day before, he had been one of a dozen speakers at the forensic seminar when a tall, slim young brunette stood to ask a question at the end of his session. He answered her question, and she asked another, much to the annoyance of those waiting to ask other questions, he answered it which led to another question. A man behind her made a loud huffing sound which was picked up by the microphone. Grissom asked the young woman if she would meet him afterwards for additional discussion. She turned to glare at the man behind her before returning to her chair.

She did wait—along with her friend. From that point, he had not stopped laughing except to sleep. The two had introduced themselves as criminalists from San Francisco—he knew their boss—had even called the man to see if these two were who they said they were.

"They are! Gil Grissom, do not even think about taking my girls to Las Vegas!" Had been the man's response to his question. "Sara is probably the smartest person I've ever hired—and totally fearless. Paula is sharp. The two of them are like bloodhounds." He laughed as he related one case the two had solved quickly, before they left the scene, which the detectives were still talking about.

The questions and answers continued to a coffee shop with non-stop talking for two hours. He had to leave them for a pre-arranged dinner. Hours later, he heard the two women laughing when he rounded a corner and found them drinking with others and a hand reached out for his arm.

"Dr. Grissom, we've found you again!" The dark haired Sara drew him into the group introducing him as the Bugman. The late hour did not dampen the excitement and enthusiasm of this group. Only later did he realize they all worked the night or graveyard shift and the late hours was their usual work time.

As the group disbanded, Sara and Paula paired up to leave saying they were going for real food and with some encouragement, took him along. In their hometown environment, they boarded a city bus—almost empty at this hour—sliding a pass twice to pay for his ride, and jumping off blocks later in front of a diner. Inside, the two girls ordered chocolate cake and ice cream and strawberries. The pieces of cake were huge; the ice cream was piled high; the strawberries as large as the spoon. He knew these slim creatures could not eat that much. He was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This is a fluff one! We need a few smiles after the promo for season 9. Enjoy this laughing Grissom._

**A Few Days Chapter 2**

They talked the entire time. They asked questions, interrupting his answers to ask another question. They talked about cases, erupting in giggles and laughter at some inappropriate description of details of evidence. As he attempted to properly describe some part of anatomy, one of the girls would crudely supply a word normally used in the field causing them to giggle at his embarrassment. At some point, he began to laugh with them.

After the cake, which took a couple of hours, they sat on a curb and waited for a city bus running on a late night schedule, refusing to call a taxi because "it's too expensive" even when he offered to pay. They insisted the bus would stop for them even if they were not at its normal bus stop—which it did.

Sitting on the curb was when he realized he was having more fun than he had experienced in years; he was laughing more than he had in a decade. And he was sure he was fifteen years their senior. He watched and listened as they talked, playing off one another in a natural rhythm of long time friends who knew secrets and habits and routines of each other as well as they knew their own.

Paula, the one with flashing green eyes, talked more, used her arms to explain what she said and changed topics mid-sentence to eventually arrive back at the same topic after she made several conversation turns. Grissom found it hard to follow what she said until he realized that two-thirds of her words did not relate to what she was saying. Her high-pitched laughter became a natural part of her words.

The tall brunette, Sara, the one who asked the questions in the seminar, was the one he enjoyed watching. Her dark eyes would sparkle; her face would light up with a broad grin and she would giggle. He was mesmerized by its sound.

As they waited for the bus, they related story after story of being sent to a crime scene to find all males waiting for the girl to do the dirty work. They had decided to never refuse a request no matter how gross, no matter how long decomposition had been going on, no matter the smell. Paula had a body literally explode in her face as it was pulled from the water where it had been hidden for days underneath a boat. To hear these two pretty young girls relate these stories made him laugh, drunk with their light-hearted rendition of the sad, often bizarre, facts of their job.

The two insisted on delivering him to the door of his hotel before they disappeared up the hill; Sara turned to wave before distance and darkness closed around them. He had found that he could barely keep up with their long strides, causing more laughter as he tried to explain that Las Vegas did not have streets with hills; overpasses but no hills. They promised to find him the next day.

Their conversation turned to a discussion of him as soon as they were half a block away. Sara turned to wave.

"Science geek."

"Nerd magnet."

They began to giggle at their descriptions.

"Nice butt."

"Pants need to fit better."

"At least he understands our job."

"He's sort of old."

"Reminds me of a college professor I had. I loved that guy for two semesters!"

"Did he know it?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "No! He was married with a bunch of kids."

"Maybe this Dr. Grissom is the one for you."

"Yeah, right. I'm never going to marry."

"We'll find him again tomorrow—today!"

They turned into a narrow alley darken by the overgrowth of vines above their heads, able to find their way with familiarity. A flight of stairs and a key got them inside the small apartment. The two girls had found each other in a graduate school and within a week decided to cut expenses by sharing this apartment. In a few months the two had meshed work and personal lives into friendship.

Grissom slept late. Working the night shift had given him the ability to sleep quickly and soundly anytime his head hit a pillow. He woke, hoping to find the same two young women who had made him laugh. Startled at his thoughts, he remembered why he was in San Francisco and tried to put professional thoughts back into his brain. Within three minutes he was out the door in search of the laughter.

He walked into three meeting rooms and left after his search for a tall, dark-haired female failed. Three people stopped him to talk and his wandering eyes cut short any conversations they might have wanted. By the fourth doorway, obviously the most popular of the morning with the number of people crowding the entrance, he decided neither girl had made it to the meetings or, if they were there, he would not find them in the mass of attendees.

"Dr. Grissom?" He turned to his name. Standing against the wall was the man he had spoken to the day before—the criminal lab supervisor in San Francisco. The two men shook hands and after a few minutes of polite talk, they left to find a better place to talk.

"Where did those girls take you, Dr. Grissom?"

The two had found a crowded coffee shop on the mezzanine of the building.

Grissom shook his head relating details, remembering the laughing, as he kept watching the building's entrance below them. "I can not remember when I've laughed so much—at nothing! Just watching, listening, to those two talk is entertainment."

The supervisor said, "Which one has your eye?"

Grissom's reputation as a researcher, a scientist, a loner, was well known; no one had ever used the terms womanizer or skirt chaser in describing him. The question took Grissom by surprise, he made no response, except to smile and wipe a hand across his face.

"Sara Sidle." It was a statement, not a question. "Serious about her job. Paula is a little too excited about life. She has a big family, couple of brothers in law enforcement. Serious, but not in it for the long run."

Grissom gave a slight nod of confirmation.

Her boss continued. "Sara is smart. She's in this job because she likes the work, the puzzles to solve. Sweet girl, too, very compassionate. She has a history—not a good one, no family to speak of. But, put her in the field and she's going to find something."

Neither spoke for a few minutes until Grissom said, "I'm not—I'm interested in her as a criminalist. It's fascinating to watch those two play off one another. Do they do that in the field? Or do they work separately?"

The supervisor quietly laughed. "Yes." He nodded toward the door. The two girls were walking in. "We're going out this morning. Probably a suicide. Would you like to go?" A slight raised eyebrow showed interest. "Bugs involved. Body found out at Golden Gate Park, been there a few days."

Bugs peaked his interest; he nodded. "I would like to go." He watched as the two girls looked up as if some magic beam spotlighted the two men before realizing their boss had paged them with his location.

_This story will not be a long one--maybe 10-12 chapters. _


	3. Chapter 3

**A Few Days Chapter 3**

In less time than he thought possible, the four were weaving through traffic in a dark colored van, Grissom in the third row seat listening to these girls laugh and talk to their boss in an intimate and comfortable manner that he had observed in others but was a rare participant. Sara was the one who pulled him into their conversation, finally turning in her seat to face him leaving the others in another discussion.

She asked half a dozen questions before she took a breath—about Las Vegas, about crime, about processes and procedures. And taking half a breath, she said "I don't like bugs." She giggled.

He talked by answering her questions, found his body leaning closer to her as her hand touched his arm. She was young, he thought. Her eagerness, her questions brought him back into the classroom, but here, she was his only pupil. Even as they unloaded supplies and equipment, their talk did not stop.

Once at the scene, the two women metamorphosed into investigators. Laughter stopped. Bantering ceased. Yet the woman continued to connect in some unseen manner of passing an evidence bag, placing markers, taking photographs, quietly talking as they processed and collected around the dead body. A second sense enveloped their work and actions. Grissom had seen this before and knew without doubt that both young women had the potential he sought in his own investigators.

The two men remained on the edge of the scene with several others in an unspoken act of allowing the two criminalists to work. Grissom studied their methods. When Sara raised a hand, it was for him.

"Dr. Grissom, take a look."

The coroner's assistant had turned the body revealing a wound crawling with maggots. Grissom kneeled for closer inspection. Immediately, a small jar was passed to him. He looked up into brown eyes and a clinched teeth smile.

Between her teeth, Sara said "Suppresses my gag reflex." She paused. "I think." She stayed beside him as he plucked several wiggling worms into the jar and automatically passed another container for a different kind of bug.

Meanwhile, Paula and a patrolman were walking widening circles around the body. One let out a yelp causing everyone's attention to turn from the body to an area twenty feet away.

"Dead dog." These two words came from Paula as she bent to the animal. A few minutes passed before she retrieved a collar and metal tag from around its neck. She passed the object to the patrolman. "Pretty dog. Why would he be here?"

Sara joined her beside the dog. "Look at the wound. Gunshot?" She and Paula looked at each other, then turned to look at Grissom who continued plucking insects from the corpse. "Hey, Grissom." Her words came out as easily as every day familiar words.

He immediately responded to her voice by moving to her side. He said nothing as he pulled a couple of maggots from the dog's wound, rolling them around in his palm. "Looks like the same time as your d.b. over there."

Someone asked if the body could be moved. Three or four voices answered in the affirmative.

"What about the dog?" Sara asked.

"I'll take the dog too." The assistant said. "It's odd to find him so near with a similar wound."

Grissom watched as the two women wrapped the dog and placed it inside the coroner's van. No one questioned their actions.

Grissom's interest lay with the dead body, the bugs, and these young women as they prepared to head back to their lab. Everyone took for granted his presence in the van as they headed back to work instead of the conference.

The dog's tag led to a name; same name on the i.d. found in the dead man. Several hours passed before everyone met again to discuss field notes, belongings of the dead man, a conversation with a brother and generally wrap up the case.

Sara's carefully composed voice said, "He killed his dog before killing himself."

"Looks that way." The coroner spoke from his position at the table.

The detective assigned the case flipped papers onto the table. "His gun. Terminal cancer diagnosis a month ago. Who knows what goes through someone's mind when they get to this point?"

"Any relatives?" Paula asked.

"One brother. I've already called him." The detective said as he got up to leave. He turned back at the door. "He doesn't want the dog—he's yours." He pointed to the coroner.

Sara's head was shaking and Grissom realized she had tears in her eyes. "Why would someone kill their dog?" She got no answer from anyone at the table until Grissom spoke.

"Maybe he didn't want to die alone."

A couple of people agreed and he saw a swipe of her hand to her eyes as Sara turned to the coroner. He knew some silent signal passed between the two.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Few Days Chapter 4**

The supervisor stood saying "Let's go find food. I think we all missed lunch and if we go now, we can beat the dinner crowds." His statement changed the mood in the room to the usual bantering of who's paying and where to go. The same four people found themselves back in a van being driven up steep streets that dropped off in an equally sharp incline. Grissom heard choices from everyone and was never sure who made the decision for Chinatown or if the driver decided to unload his crew at the most convenient location.

Sara and Paula knew these streets and knew their boss' favorite place; pushing open the door, the group was met with greetings as old friends. Instead of a table on the main floor, they went downstairs. Grissom understood. This area was for long-time customers, neighborhood families, and others who were not typical visitors seeking tourists experiences.

No one accepted the offered menus and the three locals ordered everything except a drink for Grissom. In the next hour, the laughter returned, the giggles broke out again, and the two young women slipped back into the role of entertainment for the two older men relating everyday tales of their experiences in such a way that he found himself laughing with them. Grissom knew he was being watched by their supervisor.

Bowls of steaming rice and noodles, vegetables, bite-sized pieces of beef, chicken and pork, and clear and creamy soups appeared on the table and passed from person to person. Around them others laughed as multi-generations ate together, children, parents, businessmen enjoying a private occasion in a public place.

Leaving the restaurant, the women disappeared for a few minutes allowing the two men a few minutes together.

"Dr. Grissom, all I ask is that you treat her right." The supervisor said in a low voice. "Sara is a good person. I don't want her to leave San Francisco, but she's her own person."

Grissom chuckled. "You know what I'm thinking."

"I will retire in two years or so. Let her learn from me. Keep in touch." He stopped for a minute. "Unless you have another idea."

Grissom shook his head. "They are both good. In a few years, the two will be at the top of this field. What went on with the coroner today? Some signal between the two."

It was the older man's turn to chuckle. "First, Paula will not stay. She's already engaged. Another year and she'll be married, go to some safe desk job. With Sara, I think she's here for the long run—or for as long as anyone stays in this job. You and I are old-timers; not so with most of the young people we hire."

He sighed before continuing. "What you saw today is a Sara most people will not see. She feels for victims and today it was the dog. The coroner's guy will—tomorrow the dog will be buried. She will take it out somewhere in the hills—I don't ask—and bury it. She's done this half a dozen times. Once it was three kittens; another time it was a big bird—died of starvation when its owner died and wasn't found for a week." He stopped as the door opened and the two women appeared. "Ladies," he announced, "I'm heading back to the lab. You two show Dr. Grissom a good time in our city!" With a wave of his hand, he was striding up the street. 8/21—7AM

Immediately, the girls moved to either side. "Have you been on a cable car yet?" Paula asked. They were off to Powell Street before he had time to answer.

Sara directed their exit at Lombard Street, saying they must descend the winding street with all the tourists. He followed and laughed with her as she pulled a small camera from her bag. "You need to look like a tourist!" She said as she took his photograph at the bottom of the street.

They turned left and right around several blocks finding a cobblestone path through a garden which opened onto a wooden staircase overlooking the bay. Flower pots and ivy and small birds fluttered in a tunnel of greenery as they walked along this hidden path in the middle of a busy city. Grissom was silent as the scene unfolded in the afternoon sun, astonished that such a place existed minutes after leaving the tourist choked Lombard Street.

Sara stopped at the top of the stairs. "You want to stop?" She was well aware of the effects of steep streets on many visitors. She smiled and sat on a step, leaving space for him to sit at the top of the staircase. Paula wrapped a leg around the hand rail and pulled herself to a spot above Sara.

"This is beautiful. Not what I expected to find." He sat down behind Sara. "How did you know it was here?"

Sara turned enough to lean against a rail. "I grew up here, or around here. Its cheap entertainment to wander these streets, find out of the way places." Her grin crossed her face and in second she laughed. "I specialize in getting tourists lost!" She was up and moving swiftly down the steps laughing as she did so. A high-pitched laugh from Paula echoed through the quiet place as she stumbled from her perch and followed.

Grissom did not move nearly as fast as they did, but both waited for him before heading up another hill and around several street corners pointing out another tourist attraction in the middle of the bay.

"Are you up for a long walk or do you need to return to the conference?" Sara asked.

Paula checked her watch. "I've got to go—meeting with the love of my life." She backed up the sidewalk saying, "I'll see you later." She raised one finger to Sara. "Later, show Dr. Grissom a good time!"

"No to the conference. Long walk—maybe." He grinned. "I may need a taxi to return."

She gave him another broad grin. "I'll get you back to sleep." With that comment she was off again, slowing her long strides only when he fell a few steps behind. He noticed


	5. Chapter 5

_Woops-forgot to say we don't own any of these characters, most especially Gil Grissom!! Longer one today--enjoy!_

**A Few Days Chapter 5**

She did know her city leading him to landmarks, historic parks, turning a corner to show him a skyline or a view of the bay or bridge. The street ended at the waterfront, or rather a tourist trap of trinket shops and amusements that made one wish for Disneyland. Sara avoided these plastic coated attractions and edged the water to point out sea lions on Pier 39, the old ships that lined another pier, a historic chocolate factory turned shopping center, and a museum.

They laughed at jugglers and street artists as crowds of tourists encircled each one. Sara kept them moving through a park and along a walkway into the bay and from there he saw the reason for their trek. The Golden Gate Bridge was outlined against the late afternoon sky while another bridge—the Bay Bridge—silhouetted the sky on his right. He slowly turned to take in the bridges, the bay, and the downtown skyline. Sara stood to one side and smiled.

"You like it?" She asked.

"Beautiful—no, spectacular!" He turned again.

When he faced her again, she was talking to a fisherman, handing him the small camera she carried. She moved near him, so close he could smell her hair.

"Smile!" She said as just as quickly the shutter clicked and the man passed the camera back to her. She was laughing again. "Now we'll remember who we were with."

Grissom knew he would not forget. The fragrance of her nearness caused his vision to momentarily dim as he tried to think of ways to keep her near him. He wanted to hold her hand; he wanted to wrap an arm around her waist. He took a step back as his thoughts crowded out reality.

He realized she had taken his hand as she moved toward the shoreline. "Come on, another hill to climb and if we walk fast, we can reach the bridge before sunset!" And they were off again climbing a steep path to another park. At the top, with the Golden Gate Bridge behind them, she asked a woman pushing a baby stroller to take another photograph. Again, he was given a second notice to smile yet the smell and closeness of her body overwhelmed all other senses. He realized he had not had these thoughts about a woman in a long time. If she had not talked, if she did not giggle, if she had not taken his hand, he would have turned back, found his way to his hotel room, and tried to forget this slim girl who had quite innocently stirred these long discouraged feelings.

Instead, he followed. An afternoon spent in the sun had unexpectedly caused sensations he had suppressed for years. The close familiarity of being alone with this young woman had made him remember being young, never as light hearted as this girl, but he had played, enjoyed friends, had his own private passions.

They found a bench and drank water Sara had purchased from a small store. Tourists, commuters, skaters, bicyclists, runners and walkers passed them as they watched the sun set beyond the bridge.

"Have you been across the bridge?" She asked.

"No."

"You will think I am strange," her eyes remained on the distance hills. "Tomorrow morning, go with me. I'm going to bury the dog we found today. I'll pick you up early." She hesitated. "It's not morbid or anything like that. Just dust to dust."

Grissom gave a slight nod. "I'll go."

They ate ice cream as they meandered along a street to a magnificent monument of arches and urns and figures.

"It's the Palace of Fine Arts, from the Panama-Pacific Exposition." Sara read a description of the building before they turned back toward the water. She pointed to the bridge and the trees rising above the waterfront. "That's the Presidio up there and across the bridge are the Marin Headlands. We'll go out there early in the morning—if you want to go." She said, hesitating a few seconds before he nodded his head.

"Under the bridge is the only brick fort in the west. And a path goes up to the bridge. Past the bridge you can keep walking to find a real beach, several actually—even a nude beach sometimes." She giggled as he raised his eyebrow. "I've just heard about it; would not want to try it."

Darkness had descended on them as she talked and they walked. She had stopped while pointing out the fort and bridge. The disappearance of the sun, the cool wind blowing across the water caused her to shiver as she continuing describing unseen beaches and parks, hiking trails and cliffs. She crossed her arms in an effort to ward off chills.

Grissom made a decision. "Let's go back." He held out his hand and, just as easily as she had slipped into calling him by his last name, her hand slipped into his. She smiled. "It's late. We can walk or find a taxi." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and dropped his hand to her arm. "It's cool, so coffee, food, or cab."

"All three." Her broad grin spread across her face. "I know just the place."

A taxi was easy. She gave the name of a place and offered directions. The driver knew the way.

He could hear the ocean as they approached a cliff side café. Below, Sara described the lighted building as one the tourists crowded every night. This one, just a few steps away was less crowded, family owned and, she said, served great food.

She was right. Between eating her salad and soup, she told of adventures along the cliffs as a young teenager, hiding from the world with a book in the ruins, the cooks of the café providing her with soup and bread in exchange for helping them with tax forms.

"How old were you?"

"Mmm—about fifteen. I had taken this tax course over six weeks. Then the instructor found out I was only fifteen and he would not let me work. When I told the cooks about it—I had been coming here for months after school—they brought me their taxes to do." She giggled, the same sound he found so mesmerizing.

"You were doing taxes at fifteen?" He asked. This was one of the few personal things she had said all day. "Are you some kind of genius?" Immediately, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

She blushed. "It was simple forms, easy math." She ducked her head as she resumed eating.

He attempted to recover his misstep. "I learned early to work. I was raised by my mother. By the time I was nineteen, I was working and going to college. Found the coroner's office and realized I could do the work."

"How does a bug man get into crime scene investigations? I mean, we have bugs and we call the university. Someone comes out, works the bugs."

His seafood plate arrived and he spent a few minutes arranging and preparing his food before answering. "A dead body will have bugs eventually if left long enough. I found the problem solving interesting—even when there are no bugs." They ate in silence for a few minutes. "Good food." He said.

With his fork raised, he continued. "I think you like the puzzles too. You and Paula are working a puzzle every time you are in the field or lab, putting pieces together. That's a good trait for us." He forked a prawn. "You do crossword puzzles?"

Her smile provided his answer.

Meal finished; Grissom paid. "I insist. You've been a great tour guide." He reclaimed his credit card. "Beside, I'm sure I make more than you do." He took her arm and guided her to the door and into a taxi. "And, tonight, you are riding home in a taxi."

By the time the taxi stopped at her address, they had set a time to meet in the early morning. She insisted he remain in the car, she knew the way in the dark. He got out anyway, walked with her through the dark alley to the stairs, held her hand briefly, and left quickly after she reached her door. By the time her key was in its lock and she turned, he had stepped back into the protective cover of darkness. As soon as she was inside, he retraced his steps back to the waiting taxi.

_We have worked on this one for months, decided to post after seeing the season 9 promo cause we needed some thing lighter to think about! We don't have a real good "Grissom" voice but--hey--we are girls! _


	6. Chapter 6

_Because its raining, because we need cheering up, just because we got a bunch of reviews from people like YOU--here's another one today!!_

**A Few Days Chapter 6**

Paula waited until her roommate had closed the door. "I had almost given up! Thought maybe you decided to jump his bones!" Her high laughter smothered behind a pillow thrown by Sara.

"I'm not into jumping bones." Sara's dark eyes sparkled with her own laughter. "That's all you think about. Why aren't you with Jeff tonight?" Jeff was the fiancé who had placed a ring on Paula's finger six months ago.

More giggles came from both. "I wanted to wait up for you." Paula said. "And I know you want to bury that dog we found. You've got to have help."

"Well," Sara had stretched out on the sofa, "the Bugman said he would go with me, early tomorrow. He's not been across the bridge."

Paula became serious. "Do you trust him? You know there's probably some law about burying dead animals on public land."

Sara said, "I do. It's funny. We spend an afternoon together. Ate two meals together. I did most of the talking. And he knew I was going to bury the dog when I asked if he wanted to drive across the bridge." She raised her head up. "You know how we knew each other from the minute we met? Kindred spirits, we say. Well, that's what I felt about him—since yesterday when he answered my questions."

Paula got up from her chair. "Sara Sidle, you always deny it, but somewhere underneath that brain is a hopeless romantic. You just got to let it out sometime!" She headed to the bathroom. "First shower!"

Sara stayed on the sofa. "I'll sleep here tonight. I'll be gone before you get into your second dream."

Grissom knew he heard a high-pitched giggle before he closed the door of the taxi. He hoped that was a good sign. He chuckled at his thoughts. Where was he going with this? He liked being around Sara. She talked, she asked questions, she listened. And at sunrise, he would be waiting for her arrival with a dead dog. He had picked up lots of dead animals; he had buried many in his mother's back yard. Tomorrow, he would bury a dog with a young woman who trusted him.

She was actually ten minutes earlier than she said she would be. Grissom had purchased two cups of coffee, packed a bag with sweeteners, creamer, and two muffins, and was waiting when she rolled to a stop driving a small SUV. His first observation was the baby seat in the rear seat.

"I brought juice." She held up two bottles as he got in.

"I have coffee and muffins."

He smiled. "I trust you have the dog."

"I do. In a box."

Grissom glanced at the back seat. "Where's the baby?"

She giggled. "Oh! I left her at home." She pulled away from the curb with coffee in her hand. "Borrowed the car from the assistant coroner. His baby, too. I didn't borrow the baby, just the car. He's my partner in this." She motioned toward the back of the car. "He didn't think I would have help so he got the dog cremated late yesterday." She laughed again. "When the coroner's office calls, it tends to move things along very quickly."

As she drove, she talked, pointing out landmarks they passed as well as others in the distance. Traffic was light as they crossed the bridge and she slowed for the view of the bay and city. After they crossed the bridge, she made a turn into the hills, stopping at an overlook.

"Everyone needs to see San Francisco from here." She parked the car and they leaned against the hood eating the muffins and watching the sun come up.

"I said this yesterday, but this is a spectacular view. It makes the city look like a child's model. Even the bridge looks small." He noticed she had finished her muffin and passed his remaining half to her. She took his offer without comment and finished it in several bites. He realized she made him relax in ways that no one else had in years.

She drained the coffee cup. "Ready? We'll go the scenic way. Have you ever been to Muir Woods?" He only shook his head and they were back to the highway, driving through continuous towns and suburbs until she turned onto another two lane highway. "It's not far, but uphill and then down, and it's beautiful. You don't get car sick, do you?"

Again, he shook his head.

"How long have you been in forensics?" He asked. "How did you end up in this field?"

She maneuvered the car along a twisting blacktop; passing rolling hills and occasional trees. "I interned during college with the lab and decided I liked it." She slowed for several curves before she chuckled. "I liked the puzzles."

They had traveled uphill and as they topped a crest, he saw the trees—tall, reaching for the sun, dense, huge sequoia giants. His breath made a sound loud enough to cause Sara to stop the car.

"Awesome, isn't it." She drove slower, stopping to stuff money in a box. He noticed a 'no dogs' sign posted above the container.

"No one ever notices when you come up here?" He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I come early, stay off the main trails. The dirt is soft in places, and most people never leave the path." She gave him a questioning look. "You can walk around. I can do this."

Grissom shook his head. "No, I'm in."

They took a small folding shovel and a cardboard box with them. He was thankful he wasn't going to have to dig a hole three feet deep for a dog. Sara knew where she was going and led into the forest, stepping over railings along the trail. He was slower, looking up at the trees, at the ferns growing from the ground, and realized minutes after leaving the path, they were totally obscured from anyone passing by.

Sara had started digging, making a sizable hole in the ground. He handed her the box and watched silently as she untied the cord and poured its contents into the depression. Her fingers smoothed the earth back in place. He knew she was saying words, a prayer perhaps, as she covered the ashes. Interesting girl, he thought.

Within minutes, she was up and back on the path. She wrapped the shovel in her jacket and asked, "Do you want to walk? It really is a beautiful place. Another place you never expect to find this close to a big city—we are only twelve miles from the bridge."

He took the shovel and jacket from her. "How did the trees stay here? All the others were cut down."

"Too difficult to get loggers in here and now we have loads of tourists arriving every day. It is nice out here even in the rain." She slowed her walk to match his as he continued to look upward, stopping when he did, pointing out different plants. The sun dappled the ground as it rose higher in the sky.

The path made a circle and got them back to the parking lot. He stowed the shovel and opened the driver's door for Sara. She murmured a thanks as she moved to get inside. Quickly, his hand touched her shoulder and she turned, separated only by the car's door.

Grissom looked into two soft brown eyes; the clear, bright look caused him to catch his breath before he spoke. "Not many people would do this, Sara." His voice betrayed more emotion than he wanted and he cleared his throat, looking back at the forest of tall trees.

He felt a whisper touch of fingertips below his earlobe before he turned his face into her palm. She leaned forward enough to place lips against his and quickly, softly kissed him. Pulling away, she let her smile spread across her face.

"I would regret forever not doing that," she whispered before getting behind the wheel and pulling the door closed.

_See! Got you to smile at the very end!!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A reminder--we do not own these characters! If we did--oh well, we do thank their makers for letting us have this bit of fantasy. This one is fluff all the way!_

**A Few Days Chapter 7**

Grissom knew he stood still for ten minutes; in truth, it was ten seconds before he walked around the car and got in. She held out a bottle of juice.

"What time do you need to get back?"

Her question brought him back to the present. "I—I don't have to be back until tonight. I—I fly home late." He heard her giggle. His hand wiped across his face. She knew she had muddled his mind. He emptied the bottle before putting it down.

The car was moving again. "Good, we can drive a little longer." They were back on the highway passing another park sign. "Mt. Tam, it's called." She pointed to the high mountain. "It is supposed to be the silhouette of a sleeping Indian maiden and sacred to Indians." Several miles of uphill driving brought them to a parking lot. "There is a trail to the top. You have to see the view from there and it's a clear day." From the back seat, she pulled a small backpack. "Food." She said before she led him up another trail edging the mountainside and dropping off the other side.

Grissom was trying to recover from her kiss, the briefest touch of lips touching his. He wanted more. He wanted to touch his jaw where her fingers had rested; he wanted to have her hand on his face again. Watching her walk ahead of him made him realize how he yearned for her touch, wanting her to be closer. Had she done it to tease? What had her comment meant?

She reached the summit before he did and he watched her turn full circle before she came back down the path. She reached for his hand. "Close your eyes!" She pulled him the final few feet, his eyes closed, his hand held in hers. "Open!"

His eyes opened to a clear bright sky overhead and, as she slowly rotated both of them, he saw snow-covered mountains in the far distance, the hills, the bay and the miniature skyline of San Francisco, the ocean and small islands far away from shore.

"This is spectacular." Sara said as they stopped turning. "Out there are the Farallon Islands and the Sierra Nevada mountains—there. Over one hundred miles away. You can see forever on a clear day." She had dropped his hand, but remained close to him.

"Thank you for letting me come with you." His hand touched her back and very slightly she leaned against his arm in a movement that brought her shoulder against his own.

Another small shift moved his hands to her face. Her brown eyes searched his blue ones.

"Sara," his voice barely a whisper, "I don't know what I'm doing."

Her hands, he noticed her long fingers as they wrapped around his hands. She smiled, then giggled, the sound that had fascinated him for two days.

"Oh, Grissom," she said his name on a soft breath, "we can do whatever we want."

He realized the truth in her words and pulled her into an unhurried embrace wrapping an arm around her shoulders and keeping a hand on her face. He could not remember the last time he had held anyone like this. She fit into his arms, her head nestled against his neck. How did this fortunate accident of meeting someone like this happen, he thought.

Before he realized it, he spoke the words. "How did we meet? What caused you to reach out to me?"

Her fingers played along his neck, her thumb traced his chin, and found his lip. His hand moved to cover hers as he kissed her thumb, repeatedly; until he finally pulled her face to his, his lips met hers in a true, shared kiss, separating only when one or the other needed to breathe. And finally when voices were heard on the trail below them, they parted. His arm remained around her, and he felt her arm around him.

The visitors broke the quiet spell and they left quickly, descending the path but staying together. Twice he stopped and kissed her, feeling like a school boy discovering his first crush. He knew he could have kissed her for the rest of the day—he could have done something else with her for the rest of the day.

Back at the car, she pulled two apples from her bag. "Here, eat." She passed one to him. "It doesn't take long to get to the beach, but it's not a road to eat as you drive."

Between her giggles and bites of apple, he would kiss her—first her lips, her neck, the space below her ear—playful, teasing, laughing with her. Neither said many words as she followed his actions with ones of her own—her fingers in his hair, around his neck, gently pulling his lip with her teeth before kissing him, tracing a finger along his jaw. He wanted to remain in this place forever—no, he thought, he wanted to be some place else with her and he stepped away.

"I want to see the beach."

She giggled again. He laughed quietly, opened the door for her, and got into the car.

_Thanks for all the comments! Another chapter later today. We are already passing around ideas for the follow-up, which will be just as fluffy (Gawd, don't we have enough angst in real life??)_


	8. Chapter 8

**A Few Days Chapter** **8**

The road literally turned as a corkscrew down to the beach at the bottom of the mountain. Every curve brought another sweep of land, of cliffs dropping to the ocean, of a distant shoreline. At the edge of the water, fisherman and birdwatchers were scattered along the rocks and sand. A few people were on the beach playing in the sand and surf. Grissom and Sara walked the length of the sandy hook.

"How did you find this place?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I grew up in the area. I guess I came out here on a school trip. It's not far yet it's remote and quiet."

"How old are you, Sara? Maybe I shouldn't ask." He grinned as he wrapped a hand with hers. "There are a dozen questions I'd like to ask."

At his comment, she laughed and gave him a number. His first thought was how young she was. She quickly added, "Does age matter? I finished high school at sixteen."

"No, it doesn't." Saying those words, he knew he lied. He was much too old; she was a child compared to people his own age. Her eyes were so wide, so bright, so trusting when he looked at her. "It doesn't matter, not between us." He wanted to believe their ages did not concern him but he could not forget his own parents.

She was the one who took a chance. He would never have said this to her, but when she spoke, he knew it came from a spontaneous thought.

"Grissom, let's go up there." She indicated several buildings in the distance. "I have the car until nine tonight." She thought about it for several minutes before she said, "There are a couple of places we can..."

His hand squeezed hers and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Neither hurried and in the cluster of the buildings, they found what they wanted. Their first stop was a small store selling beach needs, snack foods, drinks, and various others items people find they need.

Their second stop was a clean white building snugged among low growing trees and plants. Blankets of pink and white flowers climbed over trellises and doorways. Blue and white beach chairs decorated small porches and patios.

"I've not done this before," he said as they approached the door marked with a small vacancy sign.

She stopped. Very quietly, she said "What?"

He had to laugh. "I don't mean that. I mean checking into a place for a few hours." He heard that giggle and knew everything would be okay.

Grissom asked for the most beautiful room available. There were only nine or ten rooms, and the woman reached for a key with a large seven painted on a small metal plate. "This is the one you want. One night or several?"

With her words, he drew Sara into a one-arm hug. "Only one." He kissed her above an eyebrow. "Do you have room service?"

The lady smiled. "We can arrange for food to be delivered." She passed a menu to him.

"It comes from a little café around the corner. Should take about twenty minutes." She had taken his credit card and handed it back to him. "Thank you, Mr. Grissom. Enjoy your stay with us."

A large black seven hung on the bright white door of the room, two blue chairs sat beside the step, and flowers—they both stopped at the cascade of pink, white, and lavender that surrounded the door, climbed the porch, and tumbled across the roof.

Grissom reached to pick one lavender bloom and tucked it behind Sara's ear. Her hand covered his. "We'll be fine, Grissom," she whispered and took the key from his hand.

The clean white of the building and the cover of flowers were only a beginning for the most beautiful room of the place. The woman had known this. The door opened to a small blue room with a high old fashioned bed covered in white placed against one wall. A large window ran the length of the room opened to more flowers and a large tree in a small private courtyard. It was neither fancy nor expensive, but it was beautiful.

Sara opened a cabinet to find a small refrigerator. She put some of the things they had purchased inside and then checked out the tiny bathroom. Grissom had let her enter first and watched her explore.

When she came to the bed, she flipped the coverlet back and jumped into the center, laughing. "Come on, Bugman." She toed off her shoes and peeled socks from her feet, throwing both in his direction. He was still standing at the door.

Closing the door and turning blinds to dim the sunlight, he made his way to the bed. Sara fluffed the pillows behind her back and waited. He sat at the foot of the bed, uncertainty etched across his face.

"Sara," his hands moved restlessly, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "How can I explain that I do not do this kind of thing? How will you know I am being truthful?"

She scooted to his side, placing a hand on either side of his face, and touched her forehead to his. "I know." She kissed him lightly two times before pressing lips to his, setting a spark to passion he had buried years ago. His own hands moved, but what he felt were those long slim fingers on his face, in his hair, setting him on fire.

Her mouth never left his except to pull her shirt over her head. He realized his shirt was off when their skin touched; he felt the fabric of her bra and reached to find its hook. There was no hook. He remembered hooks.

"What is this?" He asked, fumbling hands stretching the cloth.

She giggled, reaching arms over her head. "Sports bra. Pull it off." His hands went around her chest, his thumbs grazed her nipples, and the thing was off and thrown.

"Oh." The sound escaped his lips as her hands came around his neck. He returned her kisses, moving along her neck to that small depression at her throat. Her hand pressed against his chest.

"Stop, wait," she whispered. He immediately stopped, hands came away from her body.


	9. Chapter 9

**A Few Days Chapter 9**

"Jeans, off, please." She giggled, again, before realizing he was no longer touching her. "Sorry." Her hands were working his belt buckle when he laughed softly.

"We are doing this wrong."

Her eyes came to his. "Why?"

He brought her back into his arms and gently pressed her onto the bed. He unsnapped her jeans, slipped hands underneath and around her hips, and pulled them off. He left her panties in place but carefully traced along their edge with his finger. The pants gone, he placed one hand behind her knee and lifted it as he bent to kiss the inside. He noticed a small scar above her kneecap and kissed it. With one hand he caressed her leg while he placed kisses along the other slowly moving from knee to her hip.

Sara moaned causing him to look up as an involuntary movement quivered through her body. Her hands made a fist knotted into the sheet. Her brown eyes were pools of darkness. His hands moved, one unfastened his own pants; the other explored the little triangle of whiteness covering the most intimate area of her body.

Her hand gripped his arm. "I want you," the huskiness of her voice bought his lips to hers. Her hands pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs. "Here." She handed him the small square package from the box he had gotten in the store.

He fumbled as he attempted to still his shaking hands hoping he got it right the first time. "It's been a while," he mumbled.

Her hands came around his; she brought her mouth to the corner of the packet and tore it with her teeth. "Now it's open. We should be able to figure out what to do with it." Her eyes sparkled and the amusement in her voice was enough to stop the trembling of his hands. He smiled.

Time seemed to stop as the new lovers found surprises and a certain satisfaction in each other; as many men believe, Grissom thought this woman had been brought to this time and place to please him, bring him pleasure, and with building confidence, he provided much of the same to Sara. In her turn, she delighted him with a freedom and attentive desire that he had never experienced.

Exhaustion or overwhelmed contentment found them in a soft, white bubble breathing the warm air created by their own body heat, neither wanting to end this experience.

"You are beautiful, Sara."

Sara had raised her head, resting it on her own hand. "I've never been beautiful, Grissom. You're prejudiced because you have just spent an hour in bed with me!" She leaned to kiss him, bringing her tongue to touch his teeth, to run against his lips.

"Ahh—but you have never seen you with my eyes."

Her smile came quickly. "Do you have a girl friend? A lady friend? Someone special?"

"No! I would never—no, I don't. Let's just say its been a long time since I've been in this position." He was quiet for a minute, saying, "I guess I have a girlfriend now—unless you have a boyfriend."

She shook her head. "I don't. I really did not bring you out here for this."

It was his turn to laugh. "What did that kiss mean? 'I'll regret not doing this'?"

The giggle came. "I wanted to kiss you so bad that if I didn't I knew I would be kicking myself for weeks."

"Now what?"

She fell back against his arm, laughing. "I got more than a kiss." She brought his arm around and checked his watch. "We still have several hours." The only description he could give for the look on her face was sly amusement. He was the one in this bed with uncertainties.

Grissom's hand brushed hair away from her face. "I'm almost overwhelmed here, dear. This is—this is not what I usually do."

He heard an unfamiliar sound, a sharp intake of air and what he thought of as a hiccup, before realizing she had turned her face from his, her eyes closed. They were physically closer than he had been to another person in many years and then he saw the small drop of wetness in the corner of her eye.

"Hey, what's this?" His thumb touched the tear and he gently turned her face to his. Another tear followed and he wiped it away. "Where is the smile? And the giggle? If I've done something wrong, I'll make it right. You said we have several more hours." He wanted the giggling girl back. It was not amusement he had seen, but the same uncertainty he felt, she had tried to cover with a smile.

She blinked several times and with a wipe of her hand, she was smiling. She said, "I don't do this. I really don't. I—I don't know why this happened. It just seemed the right thing to do. With you. I haven't—how do I say this? I have not had sex with anyone in a long time." It came out rapidly, almost as one word. She laughed. "I guess I want you to know that."

With her words said, he pulled her into his arms, held her against his chest, and breathed again. "I don't do this describes me as well." He felt her relax against him. "I'm not sure what we do next. Eat? I can order food."

She stayed in his embrace, her head resting on his chest. "Let's stay here for just a while. Just like this." She had wrapped arms and legs around him.

In minutes, soft regular breathing let him know she was asleep. A few more minutes, and his eyes closed.


	10. Chapter 10

**A Few Days Chapter 10**

He woke first. His arm was wrapped around her, his fingers rested below her breast just as it rose from her rib. A deliciously sweet spot, he decided, that only a lover would find, the tender beginning. Unconsciously, his fingertip moved in light circles and the girl beside him stirred.

"Hey."

"Hey, sleepyhead." He said as he checked his watch. They had been asleep less than thirty minutes.

She stretched, saying "I need to go…" Her head disappeared under the covers, her hands searching. "Bathroom, but I need, you know. I can't just go naked!"

This time he laughed, and kept laughing as she accepted his shirt, put it on and ran into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. When she returned, she placed a bottle of water on his chest.

"That's for laughing!" Both were laughing as he rolled her back into bed.

As the afternoon sun made shadows with flowers and a gentle ocean breeze stirred through the tree on the small patio, the couple found desire again. They needed few words as lips touched, fingers and hands moved in the ways of lovers. He found other sensitive and erotic places that caused her to respond to his touch. His mind screamed with desire; when she came to that explosive moment, when neither could breathe because of passion, he knew he wanted more of this woman than any woman he had ever been with. The simple recognition of his need caused him to surrender; she had captured him. How could he leave her?

Sara was the one who managed to get them back to the car. He would have stayed in this bed—forgotten his flight, given up his job, maxed out his credit card—whatever it took to keep her beside him. But she would not stay.

"I have to return the car!" She giggled in his ear. "I can't remember when I've had so much fun." She said this after she had placed a line of light kisses from his navel to his chin, when he had been unable to move, when her energy seemed boundless, and he was exhausted. She wore his shirt—he was certain it had been draped over the bedpost just a few seconds before.

She got out of bed, headed to the bathroom, saying "Order some food. I think I might faint from hunger." She closed the door to reopen it a second later. "And find my clothes!" She stayed behind the door but hung his shirt on the door knob.

Finding the menu, he ordered food. He searched, found the bra which he examined closer, not sure why it was called a sports bra, located her shirt, the two socks, her jeans, and finally, the panties he remembered. He folded everything and opened the bathroom door just enough to leave the clothes. He knew the need for privacy—even in the ultimate act of intimacy, he knew she needed to be alone to shower—this time.

When she reappeared, her damp hair curling in spite of her efforts to tame it with a ponytail, she was completely dressed and smiling. His shower would be much faster, yet before his clothes were off, he heard a knock on the room's door, quiet words, then a rap on the bathroom.

"Grissom," she whispered when he cracked the door, "I—I don't have enough money—for the food."

He passed his wallet, thinking about how many Vegas cases involved just this act—the handover of a wallet and the girl disappears. He could not help but laugh as he stepped into the shower.

Sara had placed all the food on the small table, opened the long windows, even smoothed the coverlet back over the bed. "I think we have enough for a small army," she said.

His hand touched her hair as he bent to place a kiss on her forehead. "I wasn't sure—there is so much we don't know." He sat next to her in chairs facing the patio.

"This has been nice—more than nice." She bit into one of the sandwiches. "I enjoy being with you."

More than nice, he thought. How was he going to handle this? Just leave her tonight? "Sara, tell me what to do?" His hand found hers. "I honestly do not know what to do about this—us." All the food on the table, and he could not eat, did not want it, because of these unanswered questions.

Her eyes—her eyes watched him as he awkwardly groped for words. He had so much to remember after only a few hours. What would a lifetime be with this woman? His hand passed across his face and he turned to the open window.

"Oh, Grissom." Her words were soft, gentle, so filled with compassion, spoken as no one had ever said his name. "Things will work out. Today, yesterday, we can call this a beginning. Come back, just to visit. In six months, Paula gets married. Plan to come to the wedding. I need a date."

Six months. He blinked rapidly. Six months before he could be with her again was more than his mind could manage right now. He whispered, "Six months." It was a long barren time to wait for her. She had opened up a void he had managed to close and the hollowness of going back, covering it over, for six months, made him draw a breath he could not exhale.

With an instinct he was to know and grow to love, her hands found his face and gentle fingertips touched his hair and grazed his cheekbones, circled his ear. "Silly man, I meant that only as one date. I have vacation time. You have vacation time. Don't you think we can see each other soon? Next weekend?" She giggled. "We need a little rest time, don't you think?"

She brought him back. He smiled. He wrapped an arm around her. "Move over here." He pushed the chair back enough for her to sit with him. "I'm not sure I'll be able to wait until the weekend." He laughed. She brought a piece of fruit to his mouth. He ate. Without saying many words, they finished most of the food, feeding each other, sharing bites, and laughing. They moved around the room, hands together, delaying departure as long as possible.

_A/N: This one wraps up tomorrow or the next day--enjoy! We wrote this one from Grissom's point of view--how did we do? We've worked on this one for months--just didnt think we had it true to character. Thanks!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A Few Days Chapter 11**

"We have to leave."

He left the key on the table and in the twilight, they walked back to the car.

She drove and pointed out places they missed or could not see, saying they would return on his next visit. He saw nothing but her, memorizing her face, how her hair curled, how she used her hand to brush it back, how her shirt curved around her breasts, how her hands played with the steering wheel of the car.

"What time is your flight?" She asked.

"Eleven."

"I have to be at work at the same time." They were already near the city.

"Can you return the car and take a taxi with me?" He asked, trying to think of ways to stretch the remaining few hours. "I'll get you to work on time."

"Are you checked out?"

His eyebrow shot upwards. "No," his grin followed. "I thought I would be back much earlier."

Sara drove into a parking garage, found a parking space, and used the building's house phone to call her co-worker. While she talked, Grissom went back to the street to find a taxi and within minutes they were heading to her apartment.

"He's a sweetheart for letting me use his car. I—thanks for going." Sara had gotten into the back seat and into his arms.

"We haven't had enough time."

"We'll have more when you come again." She kissed his cheek.

He brought her hand to his lips. "I think I could spend days with you and never get enough." He heard her giggle. "If you need anything—anything—call me." He handed her a card, his telephone number written on the back side. "I'll come back, promise."

She nodded. "Can you wait while I change, get my gear?"

He thought for a minute. "Another plan? I'll leave you to get ready for work and return after I check out. Keep the taxi, take you to work. How is that?"

She agreed.

He walked her to the stairs, got back in the cab and arrived at his hotel in ten minutes. It took a little longer to grab his bags, check out, and make a very rapid stop in the hotel's gift shop. The woman working in the store had what he wanted and wrapped it in a small box. The taxi driver had waited; Grissom never glanced at the meter.

He tapped on the door at the top of the stairs. Sara immediately opened it and waved him inside.

"It's not much bigger than the room we left." He would learn months later how she had cleaned the small room that served as the living area for two young women.

Grissom held out the box. "I want you to have something to remember our day."

Sara's mouth opened and closed. She carefully pulled the ribbon away and lifted the top of what she knew was a jewelry box. Inside, she found a silver chain with a small pendant attached no larger than her thumbnail; a tiny butterfly was inlaid in the silver.

"Thank you." She passed it to him and lifted her hair so he could fasten it around her neck. He sought her neck with his lips, taking in the fragrance of her skin, her hair. As she turned, his only thought was how soon he could return.

"We have not had enough time."

"This is only the beginning."

"I know. I will return. Soon."

"Is your taxi waiting? I—I can't go to the airport with you. Work—two dead bodies; Paula has already gone to the scene."

He wrapped arms around her. "I understand, I do." He kissed her again, feeling her response reach deep into his body. "Can I drop you off?"

She stepped back to retrieve her case. "Yeah. That would be nice." She giggled. "That's not appropriate." She giggled again as she saw confusion on his face. "I think I used the word 'nice' for our afternoon in bed and now I'm using it for a taxi."

Her words made him laugh. He took her case and managed to get them both out the door and into the waiting taxi.

"I'm coming back."

"I know you will."

"A long weekend—no, make that mid-week. I promise."

Her hand covered his across the seat, but neither moved to touch more than hands. She pointed out landmarks and scenes of well-known events, including several crimes.

"I thought you would be interested in who got killed there." She giggled. He wanted to turn around, take her to any hotel, listen to that sound in his ear for the rest of the night.

Instead, the taxi driver slowed and stopped behind the group of police vehicles. This was her crime scene. When he started to open his door, her hand stopped him.

"Don't get out. You need to get to your flight." She said. "It's easier this way." She leaned across the seat and kissed him, briefly, then held his face between her hands. "Come back to me, Grissom." With that, she was out of the cab and disappearing between police cars. He knew she turned back to wave.

_One more chapter to end **A Few Days**. We are already working on a sequel._


	12. Chapter 12

**A Few Days Chapter 12**

Grissom made his plane. He also learned that San Francisco to Las Vegas flights occurred every hour of the day. He would be back, soon.

As the plane lifted, he realized he had no phone number for Sara Sidle. He did not know her address. He did know her boss. He knew where she worked. He shook his head and began to laugh as the guy in the seat next to him gave him a funny look.

He leaned his seat back and closed his eyes. Sara Sidle, he thought, had slipped into his conscious with her easy, innocent ways—and smart, too. He could list a dozen reasons not to see her again. He thought of her smile, the way she curled against his body, how she glanced at him when she thought he wasn't looking, of her giggle. He would return.

His fingers reached into the pocket of his shirt to find the ribbon from the box. This was the physical evidence of their meeting, meaning nothing to anyone else. But in his mind—he thought of Shakespeare and Helena of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, "love looks not with eyes but with the mind." He chuckled again before he slept. His mind would not forget her.

--

Catherine was already working the scene by the time he arrived. City bus had hit a pedestrian crossing a dark street; the driver sat inside an ambulance, the pedestrian had no need for treatment.

"Hi! You're home." Catherine's greeting was always one of a good friend—a very good friend.

"Yeah. Just got in."

"Good meeting? Good food? Did you have fun? Oh, why do I always ask that. Gil, do you ever have fun?" Her questions came so rapid and he knew she really expected no answers.

He bent to her level beside the man's body. "Good meeting. San Francisco is a nice city. I might go back again." He pulled a glove on his hand.

Catherine said, "It is beautiful." She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. She sang a few lines of an old song, "If you're going to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair." She laughed. "You didn't wear flowers in your hair, did you? Of course not. Did you even notice a woman? Not! Gil, you got to open up, see the world. You don't want to wake up fifty-five years old and have no one, be some lonely workaholic."

Gil Grissom passed her a small evidence bag. She missed his smile as she returned to work.

_Okay, let us know what you think! Thanks for all the comments (like the ones that quote favorite lines--which are surprising to us!!) We are working on a sequel to this one. Fluff!!_


End file.
